


Rest Calm

by blarfshnorgull



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bittersweet, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Introspection, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reunions, based on their non blue lions ending so y’know, by which I mean Felix thinks about how he’s emotionally constipated, can be read as platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28463613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarfshnorgull/pseuds/blarfshnorgull
Summary: Felix never put much thought into the Garland Moon tradition until it was too late.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Lysithea von Ordelia, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Rest Calm

**Author's Note:**

> I had more I wanted to do but I wanted to maintain my whole “posted a fic every month” streak but The Disability (tm) has been acting up more than usual
> 
> As always, shoutout to my betas arihime and newmrsdewinter. I love y’all so much you have no idea. Especially when y’all are putting up with my last second deadlines for beta-ing lmao

During Garland Moon, it is common practice for women to weave together crowns of white roses to show affection for friends and lovers alike.

Felix never took part in the tradition in his youth. For obvious reasons, he wasn’t a girl, but even then it always seemed so pointless; the flowers would just die anyway, so why waste the time making a crown out of them?

Mocking the practice was also helpful in smothering any more complicated feelings Felix had.

An unfortunately recurring pattern.

But he’s older now, and knows better than to fall back on that tired excuse of being unaffected by his emotions. He’s not a child anymore, and the war has taken too much from him to keep playing games of denial with himself. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t make a crown of white roses at least once in his life.

But like with everything in Felix’s life, it’s too little, too late. 

He drops a tangled crown of roses at Gronder, and walks away as if he never visited. 

It’s just a pitiful tribute to a painful memory.

Dimitri isn’t alive anymore to even care. Or anyone from a better time in his life. Sylvain and Ingrid are just as gone as Dimitri, and Felix doesn’t even know where any of them were buried.

He doesn’t even know if his own father survived.

Everything about this plan was ridiculous. The dead are dead. Why would they care if Felix made them something for the Garland Moon?

Why does Felix care?

Tearing open a raw wound pointlessly should have been the end of it. It should have, but Felix has always been difficult.

Claude may have left, but Felix knows Annette and their professor would be more than willing to take him back with open arms if he goes to the monastery. He knows it, but he walks away.

Time has taken its toll on him, and he’s too old to pretend like he isn’t just punishing himself. This is a choice to make himself miserable because he doesn’t know what else to be in the wake of his mistakes. It isn’t some game of ignoring how he feels anymore, it’s much worse.

Goddess, how he envies his past self.

Time blurs. Every day feels like a distant memory of itself, like a dream happening to a stranger. None of it feels real, and before he knows it, the Garland Moon passes again.

Felix never thought the sight of flowers could make him so sick.

At every twist and turn, no matter where runs to, all he sees are white roses. The shadow of who he lost at Gronder continues to hang over him, and he can’t escape no mater what.They taunt him for all the wasted years of self-denial and anger.

Afterwards, Felix stumbles through town after town, trying to ignore a nightmare that won’t leave. His mind is blank, lost in a fog while he forces himself to keep going, like every shock of white doesn’t make him want to wither away.

He’s not strong enough.

Felix’s legs tremble at the sight of a clumsily woven crown resting on the head of an older man, probably made by his grandchildren.

All Felix can think of is Gronder.

He’s weak. Always running away from his emotions until he crashes into the consequences. Now he’s too pathetic to even bear the sight of flowers.

He blindly stumbles into the side of a building, numbness drowning out the immediate pain. His eyes close, trying to block out the world around and—

And something tugs at his sleeve.

Felix opens his eyes to see a small, sickly pale girl pulling him behind her. Even if he didn’t recognize her by appearance alone, Lysithea is always very distinct in how she acts. She has always been the type to take the initiative, but Felix just never thought he would see it happen in some far removed, no name town. Or to be on the receiving end.

She pulls him into a small, nondescript building, and guides him to a chair. He sits in silence, unsure if he should thank her or not.

“You looked lost.”

Felix looks up, caught off guard by the warmth in her voice. She’s smiling at him, almost as if she’s extending an invitation to an old friend and not speaking to the shadow of someone she used to know.

It renders him speechless.

Lysithea presses her lips together and gives a quiet hum at his lack of response. There’s still kindness in her expression, but her voice wavers. “I know I promised you cake, but it’s late.”

The promise they made together feels so long ago, almost like it was between strangers, and he was just an outsider looking in. Has it only been two years? It feels like he’s lived several lifetimes since the war’s end.

His expression must betray his thoughts, because Lysithea’s too-pale face flushes. “We can make one tomorrow. If you want,” she continues, uncharacteristically shy.

Felix tilts his head and looks at her,  _ really _ looks at her. She’s pale, and she’s always looked sickly pale, but Felix is struck by how pallid she looks in spite of the blush coloring her.

Has she always had such dark rings under her eyes?

Is Lysithea thinking the same thing about him?

What a pair they must make.

He probably looks worse for wear, despite her pallor. Wandering without any direction aside from his own self-inflicted torment for so long has ripped any meaning from his existence. At least she seems to have found some kernel joy in spite of everything.

At least she can still smile.

Felix can’t understand it. Then again, he really only knows how to be miserable. Maybe he’d never be able to understand that.

They’re both dead on their feet, but he’s a shell of what he used to be.

The irony doesn’t escape him. He knows what he is.

Felix opens his mouth, intending to reject her, to run away to whatever punishment he’s decided he deserves. Just like…

But that’s not what happens.

He shouldn’t be surprised; he was always horrible at saying what he thought. He always ruined things for himself. But it still somehow manages to catch him off guard.

He closes his mouth. And… and he nods, despite his every instinct telling him to leave.

Lysithea smiles and preens, clearly satisfied. It’s such a painfully familiar scene, it almost makes him feel like…

It feels comforting.

“Good,” she comments, nodding enthusiastically. “Your sweet tooth needed some work, and I already have some notes ready.”

She walks away from him, heading towards another room, but spins on her heel to face him before she leaves. “And don’t you dare think about leaving until our recipe is perfect!”

She turns, leaving Felix alone with his thoughts. It finally occurs to him that he’s in a bakery.

He stands, and amazingly, he doesn’t run. Instead, he lays down his sword, and follows Lysithea.

Perfection is hard to achieve, he could be here for a while.

For some reason, that doesn’t sound like a bad thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna write more things I’m happier with/enjoy more next year instead of meeting some quota. But who knows what’ll happen next ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> end my torment lmao


End file.
